Indebted to the Mafia King
Slut

Eleni

Dante is all around me, all over me, even dangling from my neck in the form of this new tracker, and I melt into him. His breath is hot on my neck, and his fingers are hard on my nipple, under my shirt and bra. "I'm going to stop now," he says, "and we're going to watch some TV. A good girl wouldn't complain. And she certainly wouldn't try to do anything to change my mind. Do you understand?"

I nod. I just have to prove I can resist him. He releases my breast, pulls his hand out of my shirt, and turns on the TV. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's breathing heavily, and his cock already tents his pants a little. Maybe this isn't just about me. Maybe it's a contest of wills. And that, I can win, even if Dante's supposed to be the one in charge.

I glance up at the motionless fan overhead. "It's broken."

"Really?" Dante frowns. "I thought-"

I shake my head before he can get up to check. "Broken. And I'm hot." I pull my shirt off and drop it on the couch next to me, revealing the bra of the other lingerie set Dante bought me, the one we haven't broken in yet. The deep red lace cups my breasts but hides very little.

Dante swallows. "This wouldn't be an attempt to sway me, would it?"

"Never." I shake my head hard enough to make my breasts bounce. "I'm a good girl."

"Of course you are." He sets his hand on my knee and turns back to the TV.

Not enough. But that's okay. He wouldn't be the man I know if he caved that quickly. I stretch out on the couch and, by pure coincidence, my head lands in his lap. He smiles wryly and threads a hand into my hair. The weight is one part comforting, one part deliciously threatening. Like this, he could grab my hair and yank, sending pain sparkling through me, if I tried anything. Still, I nuzzle my cheek against the slight tent of his cock.

His grip on my hair tightens. "Pet?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?" He doesn't take his eyes off the show.

"Getting comfortable," I reply innocently.

He doesn't release his grip. But he doesn't move me, either, and I can feel his cock grow harder. He wants a brat. I watch the show, some police procedural, in silence for a while so he starts to let his guard down. Then, I roll over in his lap and look up at him. "Aren't you hot?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"I don't believe you. I'm sweltering." I unbutton and shimmy off my shorts, exposing my tiny thong. Dante's mouth watered when he saw this one sitting on the bed, and I understand why. My whole ass is bare, and a slim, high triangle of equally translucent lace covers my pussy. I'm only barely leaving anything to the imagination.

And he seems to be imagining. His cock grows even harder.

"Do you want something?" I tap on the tented pants next to my cheek. "I thought we were stopping."

A low growl tears out of Dante's throat. "No, I don't."

"Good." I nestle back in. "I love this show."

I let a few more minutes pass. Then, I sit up. Dante visibly relaxes next to me. Stupid man. I won't give up that easily.

"I think this bra is hurting my back." I frown, trying to look serious.

He's instantly disengaged from the show, looking at me. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything we can do?"

"Not much." I reach behind me and unfasten the bra. "Just a little massage." As the lace slides away, I reach up to massage my own shoulders. I let my eyes flutter closed and moan at the pressure.

And that's all it takes. Dante crushes his mouth onto mine, trapping me against the couch. I open for him easily, welcoming his tongue. He devours me, and I consume him in turn.

"You little brat," he growls between kisses.

"I didn't do anything," I say with a smile. "You just decided to fuck me."

"You've got one thing right." He meets my gaze, animal hunger in his dark eyes. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, you little tease."

He drops his head to my chest, and a line of bruises blooms in the wake of his mouth. I feel every one, feel the sharp spikes of his teeth against my skin, just hard enough not to break the skin. I moan, loud and long. Dante slaps one of my breasts. "No. Little sluts like you don't get to enjoy being used."

My breath catches. "Yellow."

He backs off instantly, and I cover my chest with my arms.

"What is it?" he asks.

"That word." I tremble, hearing echoes of every man who's ever thrown it at me for nothing more than existing in my body. "I...I don't like it."

He nods. "I don't have to use it. But know that I think you're gorgeous, and sexy, and you haven't done anything wrong."

"Really?" I looked up at him.

Most of the hunger is gone from his gaze, but it reignites as he looks me over quickly.

"Really." His voice is low. "El, I don't think being a slut is a bad thing at all."

I nod slowly. Some of the hurt starts to drain away. "Even if we weren't at home?"

"Well, I might want you dressed differently if we were surrounded by people." He smiles. "But yes. Always. I want you however you feel sexy, and I don't need to use that word."

I shake my head. "No, you can. I want you to. I don't want it to have power over me."

And I know Dante will never really want to hurt me.

He meets my gaze. "You'll tell me if that changes?"

"Always." I uncover my breasts. "Green, sir."

He flips back on like a switch, pinning me to the couch in an instant. When he drags his teeth over my breasts, I'm caught in his rhythm, instantly back in the moment. Every pinch and swat sings through my veins. I arch up into him. Dante shoves me back down. "What did I tell you about enjoying yourself?"

"Sluts don't get to, sir," I answer breathlessly.

He pauses for a split second, a breath I never would've noticed when I first started sleeping with him. Now, I recognize it as an opportunity to use my safe words. A moment where I could back out.

I grab his ass. "Please use me, sir."

Dante rips my hand off him and pins it over my head. I squirm in his grasp. He reaches down and unbuttons his pants. His cock springs free, and I feel myself grow even wetter. I open my mouth, let my tongue loll out. He scoffs but repositions until his cock is in front of my face. I lick it, savoring the taste.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth," he says. "And if you're good enough, maybe I'll let you touch your slutty little pussy while you do."

I wrap my lips around him. Unlike when I was learning the ropes, he grabs my hair with a spark of pain and begins thrusting, taking my mouth instead of letting me give it. He hits the back of my throat quickly, and I gag, but I tap the outside of his still-clothed leg, a signal for "green" we came up with for when my mouth is full. Dante doesn't even break his rhythm. He's perfect.

My eyes water, and all my worries begin to melt away. There is nothing but this, us, his necklace bouncing against my bare breasts and his cock in my mouth. It's so easy to roll my tongue over his underside, to groan and feel his balls tighten in response.

"Touch yourself," he hisses.

I slide a hand in between my legs and find the tiny red underwear soaked through. I shove them aside. Finding my clit is second nature now. Circling it in rhythm with his thrusts is as easy as breathing. I stuff my other hand down there and curl two fingers into myself in the same rhythm, like he's fucking me everywhere.

He thrusts into me once, twice, three times more and comes with a moan. I swallow quickly, but some still escapes, dribbling onto my bare breasts. He starts to withdraw, and my heart skips a beat. I'm so close. He won't leave me hanging now, will he?

Of course not. Dante leans back and watches me fuck myself with hungry eyes. "Such a good little slut."

I am his slut. And he loves me. I come with his name on my lips.